Birdman – fulfilment is tricky to achieve in the real world, so don’t do it in the real world

Birdman is a film I came out of with many questions, even after several viewings. After some time of sifting through and categorising these questions, I got to the main one which was the stumbling block for all others; what is the point the film and its director, Alejandro G. Iñárritu, trying to make. It’s worth noting that films don’t need to make a point. The excellent (and excellently written about by ThreeActStructure) Dazed and Confused is a great example of this. No huge overarching point or lesson to be taken away, but a fantastic immersion into 1970s High School America. Anyway, despite that deviation, I still felt that I needed to find a bigger takeaway or point to Birdman. I think this mainly stemmed from the (spoiler alert) acts/attempts of suicide portrayed. A film wouldn’t use this trauma for no reason unless it was making a grand point or observation, right?

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) was released in 2014 and follows Riggan Thomson, played believably by Michael Keaton. His portrayal is honest and emotional. In a very meta way, Keaton’s previous work before Birdman included a similarly rubber-suited hero in the form of DC Comics’ Batman in 1989 and 1992. From my lazy research on Wikipedia, when Keaton first read the script, he thought it was mocking his time as Batman and his current career but after a discussion with Iñárritu was convinced to take on the part. I love the meta-ness of the casting and think it really played into the films authentic feel of an opening night on Broadway. I absolutely adore the use of drums throughout the film as a medium for tempo, progression, and stress – a fitting soundtrack to New York. Similarly, I loved the single shot styling. The story ebbs and flows with an inescapability to it – we as the audience, are just along for the ride.

The film centres around the dynamic between Riggan’s desire for integrity and his desire for success. Birdman acts as Riggan’s inner superhero, the 30-year-old ripped flying manbird who boasts about film grossing and being adored by the wider public. Since Riggan left the superhero plight behind, not doing Birdman 4, he hasn’t been overly successful and so is risking a lot of money and respect in trying to make it as a serious actor. Iñárritu doesn’t for me, portray either side as necessarily the right choice, in fact both are toxic paths. The success related with Birdman meant he isn’t taken seriously with critics, and the success wasn’t associated with his talent or hard work. Just wandering round Times Square in his underwear was enough to get thousands of YouTube views. Broadway integrity isn’t depicted as the right choice for Riggan either, the only actor of the group who appears to have experience on the stage is a wonderfully arseholely Mike Shiner, perhaps also in a meta casting choice, played by Ed Norton. Shiner is abusive, openly rude to the audience and belittling of the writing. Is this attitude, combined with not caring what others think of you what it takes to make it on Broadway? We know Riggan isn’t like this at all and has too much riding on the plaudits of both the critics and wider audience to not care what people think. Similarly, the success of Birdman didn’t bring him joy, it left him divorced and an absentee father.

I love how four of the characters each represent a group that Riggan can’t quite grasp. His daughter, Sam Thomson; played in such a good contrast to Mia in La La Land (Emma stone has great acting range, if you needed reminding). Sam wants Riggan to move into the real world, where online views equal power to her and her generation. Shiner wants Riggan to not care about the audience, ruining most of the previews, and to engage in the art of acting. Shiner represents the toxic end of the spectrum of Broadway. Zach Galifianakis gives a restrained performance as Jake, the manager of the show, who whilst Riggan’s oldest friend, is mostly invested in the play making money, lying regularly to keep the show on the rails. I see Jake as the business side, where money comes first over safety, care, and truth. Finally, his ex-wife Sylvia Thomson (Amy Ryan) actively cares about him, seeing through the plaudits to an internally damaged man who tried to hurt himself. Her care for Riggan never depended on his success and yet this only seems to get through to Riggan far too late. None of these people in his life or what they represent can quite be understood by Riggan as he desperately attempts to achieve all at once. Riggan performs on the opening night with again a meta-ness. The monologue of his character desperately grasping with the idea of not being loved and being invisible (after catching his wife cheating) mirroring his own feelings of invisibility and wanting of the admiration of family, critics and the wider public. This performance is increasingly tense as it’s not the gun he used in all previous performances and is in fact a loaded gun. At the culmination of his monologue, he shoots himself – seemed pretty dead to me. We then find out that he survived and is recovering in hospital, only blowing off his nose which is then remade as a Birdman-esque larger beak-like nose. But he’s succeeded, we find out that critics have labelled this as a new type of theatre: ultra-realist - blindingly toxic, I know. The public is lighting candles for him, and Jake says book deals are on their way. Was this just a dying brain aneurism in Riggan’s brain or the actual events? I don’t know but this then brings us back to the central question of mine, what was the point? To show the fickle nature of Western consumerist society, ignoring that a man has tried to commit suicide, and even further rewarding it? Or is it to show that true peace comes from within, if Riggan could have tamed the voices he tried to appease: Birdman, the public, the critics, perhaps things could’ve been different.

The film ends with Riggan standing on the hospital window ledge with the camera panning round. Sam enters moments later to an empty window ledge and goes over, looking first down and then up, smiling at something in the sky. Did Riggan jump to his death? Probably. Did he fly off as Birdman? In a subjective reality, perhaps yes. The film uses Riggan’s subjective reality a lot, with Riggan performing acts of supernatural power and then the next scene would disprove this. A brilliant example of this is when Riggan believes he’s flown back to the theatre then a cab driver is seen chasing him down for payment. The ending though, we don’t see the act of supernatural power and Sam’s reaction, looking up and smiling, would indicate that he has indeed flown away with no disproval as the film ends. I think that this is the subjective reality of Riggan’s world. We can choose to see the reality; that he fell to his death. Or, we can choose to believe, have faith, and believe he flew away. Like Sam smiling up the sky. Birdman’s subtitle, the “Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance” chimes like a gong here. It’s the gift of belief. Believing in a subjective reality, beyond the cruel world, is freeing. Sam has chosen to believe in this subjective reality, to have belief, and is reaping the benefits. Seeing her dad finally, as Birdman.

I don’t know what the right answer is here. And that’s okay. The ambiguous ending has been left for the audience to assert meaning to. Whilst I took things away from the film, notably, integrity is something one has for oneself, not what others can apply, and success is subjective, I don’t have an overarching grandiose takeaway. Perhaps that is okay as there is an unexpected virtue in ignorance.

Finally, I don’t think the film tries to glamorise suicide. In fact, I think it is used to highlight to poor way our society looks at mental health issues. However, if you disagree, I can very much understand. If you were affected by anything seen in the film of this article referencing suicide or mental health, please do reach out to the Samaritans (https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help/contact-samaritan/).